The word flashed across the display.
“Shit,” I muttered, then closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.
As inevitable as this moment was, I’d been hoping it might never come. It was here, though, which meant I would once again be inseminated with a stranger’s sperm, and in a couple short weeks, could potentially learn I was pregnant.
I wasn’t ready.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, my stomach twisting into knots, my mind for some reason wandered to Marc. Despite knowingwhat I was risking, I’d spoken to him every day. Sometimes we met on the terrace for privacy, but other times we simply traded a couple words in passing. We were keeping it simple, being careful, but I wasn’t a fool. I was seeking him out because I liked him, and with each passing day, the attraction grew more intense. And with nothing else to focus on, it was unlikely that would change any time soon.
Would a pregnancy change how he treated me?
My wristband dinged, and I forced myself to look at it again. A reminder to head to the clinic flashed across the screen, making me roll my eyes. Hilary had said to report there immediately, but couldn’t they give me time to brush my teeth? Five minutes couldn’t possibly change what was going to happen next.
Knowing I needed to get going, I finished getting ready, the movements automatic since my mind was on what was going to happen next. It was the same when I brushed my teeth and hair, then worked it into a ponytail. It was all muscle memory. Like I was moving on autopilot. I barely even recalled swiping my room key off the dresser on my way out.
Before heading down, I crossed the hall to Bette’s room and knocked. Since we typically ate breakfast together, I wanted to let her know what was going on. Although she was literally the only person I would tell.
“You’re early,” she said when she opened the door, offering me a big smile.
She was thirty-five weeks pregnant now and showing it. Her belly was lower than it had been, her face puffy and her feet swollen, and she waddled like a duck when she walked. Still, she was glowing, and the closer she got to her due date, the happier she seemed. Despite the uncertainty surrounding whether she’d get to go home.
“I won’t be at breakfast.” I waved to my wristband instead of explaining.
Bette’s smile slipped away. “Oh, Ara, I’m sorry.”
“It had to happen,” I shrugged to cover how upset I was.
My friend gnawed on her bottom lip, clearly searching for something to say. Since she stayed quiet, I assumed she couldn’tthink of anything. I got it. This situation was pretty much the worst.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I know,” Bette replied.
I stepped back, gave a little wave, and headed off, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll see you at lunch!”
The stairwell was crowded with people heading down to breakfast, but if I passed anyone I recognized, I didn’t notice. My brain buzzed and my body hummed with nervous energy, and I wanted to both get this part over with and find a way to put it off forever. Too bad that was impossible.
Hilary was pacing outside the clinic when I reached it, but she stopped when she saw me and threw her hands up in exasperation. “There you are!”
“My wristband dinged ten minutes ago,” I replied, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “I had to get dressed and brush my teeth.”
Hilary rolled her eyes but thankfully said nothing else before yanking the door open and waving for me to go ahead of her. “In you go.”
I did as instructed, crossing the threshold into the makeshift clinic.
Portable walls had been positioned throughout the largest ballroom in the hotel to create rooms, and curtains had been hung at the openings to give the illusion of privacy. Some held exam tables outfitted with stirrups and wheeled carts to hold the necessary medical supplies, while others had been set up to use for counseling or other appointments. Women, apparently, would labor and give birth in their rooms, but in the event that a c-section was required, there was a space for that as well. There was a nursery for observing any baby who might need it after birth, and office space for the doctors. The Department of Fertility had thought of it all, had planned for everything, all so women like me could live out the pandemic in seclusion while still popping out babies.
Like the Department of Fertility back home, a desk had been set up where patients could check in when they arrived. Unlikeback home, it was manned by an armed soldier, and the one today just so happened to be Marc.
“We’re here to see the doctor,” Hilary said as she marched toward the desk.
Marc’s eyebrows lifted slightly when he saw me standing behind her, but it was the only outward sign that he knew who I was. He nodded to my minder, then tapped his finger against the tablet in front of him. It was propped up so I couldn’t see the screen, but I imagined he was pulling my information up since my wristband had probably alerted not just Hilary to my change in status, but the clinic as well. They would want to be ready for me.
“Arabella Murphy?” he said when he looked up, even though he knew very well that was who was standing in front of him.
“That’s me,” I replied in an equally unfamiliar tone.
Marc’s gaze moved back to the screen. “Looks like they’ve set you up in room three. You can head on back.”
